Chapter 27
Clyde
Road won’t even meet my eyes, but it’s as if he grabbed a sledgehammer and slammed it into my face. My heartbeat speeds up. I don’t want to believe it, so I stare at him, looking for any sign of lying.
“You’re covering for someone,” I say. That’s the only thing that makes sense. Now I regret putting out my cigarette, because he’s still like a statue, and I know he’s telling the truth.
“I’m not,” he says and reluctantly meets my gaze, opening and clenching his fists. “I beat him up, then put the noose around his neck and watched him die. And then I got into the crane and pulled his carcass all the way up.”
I’m gonna be sick. I watch him, so startled I feel hot and cold at the same time. “What the fuck?” I utter, taking a step back, painfully aware of how naked I am. I bared myself to him, and now he’s telling me he…
Road fills his lungs with air and moves closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, both feet firmly on the floor. The atmosphere has shifted, and now even the tacky bedding seems like yet another element of my worst nightmare.
“You want trust? This is me trusting you. I killed Roy.”
Heat strikes my face as I watch him in disbelief. And even now, as my fists fill with fury, I know I won’t give him up to my club, and I hate myself for it .
“Jesus fucking Christ! All this time… You lured me. You pursued me. And then you fuck me. After killing my brother ? What is wrong with you!?”
Road stands. “I thought you hated him! So why does that matter?”
I despise the calm with which he says that when I’m about to lose my shit. “Don’t turn this around on me! You had no idea what I thought of him when you humped me like a dog in heat. Who the fuck are you even? Any other skeletons I should know about?” I grab my pants and pull them on because I’m not doing this bare-assed. It’s bad enough that I still have his cum inside me, and I’m pretty sure it keeps slowly dripping out.
“It was meant to be just sex. And we agreed to not discuss clubs,” Road protests, grabbing my forearm, as if he doesn’t want me to get dressed.
I slap his hand away. “Maybe we should have stuck to that. But now here we fucking are!”
“Yes, here we fucking are,” Road snaps, kicking the nightstand so hard it rattles and threatens to fall over. “When was the best time to tell you? When I visited your home, or in a message during the past two weeks? Oh, by the way, I was the one who offed Roy. I hope you’ll understand .”
I don’t have the answers, because there are no good ones, but I’m not telling him that. “I don’t understand. And that’s the fucking problem! Why? What did he do?” I stare him down, trying to compose myself as I zip up my jeans. I can’t believe this is happening. I want to both throttle him and hug him, and it’s so confusing I wish I had a baseball bat so I could take my frustration out on the shitty TV in the corner.
I expect a list of Roy’s misdeeds, even if some of them were petty, but Road’s quiet, his lips twitching as he looks away. “Why does it matter? What happened happened. But things changed, and I can’t hide it from you anymore. I don’t want to lie to you, even though I know you might now walk away and sic your club on me. So what will it be?” Road asks, taking a step back before stretching out his arms. Naked, with all of his scars bared, he almost seems vulnerable. Almost.
“That’s what you think I’d do? Tattle to my club? So you can tell them I’m gay?” I clench my fist, but then punch the wall next to me, because otherwise, I’d have to give Road a taste of my knuckles. His betrayal hurts too much to contain the pain inside, so I punch the flimsy plaster again and again, until it crumbles under the pressure and my knuckles are bloody.
“I don’t know. Maybe? You seem mad enough,” Road growls, pulling on my shoulder .
I push him away, feeling like I’m losing my mind. Just when I thought our thing is tangled enough, he sets it on fire. “Because I at least deserve to fucking know what happened! How am I supposed to just accept it?”
Road’s lips twist, and his entire body twitches, as if he were struggling to control himself. Is this how badly he wants to bruise me now?
“I can’t tell you. It’s… not my story to tell. You should know secrets are there to be kept!”
He already stabbed the knife in me, but now he fucking twisted it. We were supposed to share secrets. Sure, I’ve got some skeletons hidden from him, but not like this . I wish we were fighting physically, because his fists would hurt less than words.
My head throbs with fury, jealousy, resentment, all of them mixed up like some ungodly drink to haze a prospect with. Even now, after everything, he’s loyal to his club, not to me. And I don’t even have that kind of bond in my life, because the men I call my brothers are my shield against the world. I wish I didn’t need them. I enjoy the perks of being a Butcher, but I’d still sell them all to the devil for Road.
He wouldn’t do that for me, and the weight of that realization is crushing.
I guess I’m happy he has people he can count on.
“Fine!” I snarl, because it’s definitely not fine. But since I’m not turning Road’s face into a pulp, I grab the stool next to a shoddy table and hurl it at the TV with a scream of pure fury. They both collapse behind the dresser, but this isn’t enough, so I grab the bedding next and toss it to the floor.
A part of me knows no amount of destruction will be enough to quell the deep ache in my chest, but I’ve lost my heart to a man who will never put me first. Even if I can’t make myself knock the bastard’s teeth out, covering the carpet in glass shards might make breathing a bit easier.
I’m a feral animal in a cage too small.
After breaking the mirror, I have to take a breather, because my knuckles are bleeding again. Only when I catch a glimpse of Road’s concerned expression in a piece of broken glass do I realize I’m making a spectacle of myself.
I’m fucking pathetic, and he’s now realizing choosing his club really was the better option. I can give him nothing. Nothing some other guy can’t offer.
I flinch when he places one hand on my back and nudges me toward the bathroom. “Let’s put that under water. ”
I rub my forehead and dig my heels in. “Fuck that. I need to go. I thought what we did tonight mattered.” Which is embarrassing to say out loud. Like I thought it was more than a fuck. But what? I don’t even know anymore, but I’m gonna bury the memory so deep I never have to look at it.
I step toward my fallen top, but Road blocks my way, trapping me in the hell I’ve made for myself. “It did… It does ,” he corrects himself, but when he attempts to grab me, I shove him away again.
“But not more than your club and their secrets. They’re your family. I get it. Go fuck Prophet then. Or is that too incestuous?” Spite builds up around me like armor, but it’s not enough to shield me from physical threats. On my way to get my boots, I step into the damn shards of glass. They feel like ice, but before I can finish my muffled hiss, firm arms wrap around my midsection and lift me off the floor, as if I’m a child.
“Stop thrashing around,” Road says, throwing me on the mattress.
How fucking dare he!?
“You’ve got some nerve!” I scowl at him. Maybe if I work on it, I’ll learn to hate him again. My foot is bleeding over the sheet, and I can only hope motel staff ignore our yelling, because dealing with them is the last thing I need on top of this fuckery.
Road leaps on the bed, and I stiffen when he grabs my wrists and presses them to the mattress, breathing hard and fast. I can see his bottom teeth now, as if he can’t control his expression anymore.
“I do, and that’s what you fucking like about me, so calm the fuck down!”
“You have no fucking idea what I like!” I writhe in his hold like a feral cat thrown in water. The humiliating fact is that he’s right. I like muscular, inked bastards. I like kisses on the neck. And I like to be under him. How dare he use that against me?
“Come on, Blue Eyes,” Road begs, rubbing my trapped hands with his thumbs, as if this is just an ordinary lover’s quarrel. “I told you my secret. I could have lied.”
I want to cry. I feel that itch in my eyes, the lump in my throat, but I’ve not cried in ten years, and I’m not starting now.
There’s a weakness in me that tells me to embrace everything he is, murderer of my brother included. I could cozy up to him, enjoy the pet name and being his ride. But if a life in the Hell’s Butchers MC taught me anything, it’s that I need to be tough, or I will be ripped apart .
If Road could trust me with the why of this secret, maybe I could be swayed. The lack of trust here is the nail to our coffin, the truth I didn’t want to see, too blinded by my own desire.
I take a deep breath. “I need to wash my hands.” The ache in my knuckles is nothing compared to the one in my heart. All this time. He was Roy’s killer, and pursued me like it’s some game. Did it turn him on that the brother of the man he murdered was sucking his cock? Does he get off on that kind of shit, like some psycho?
Road swallows and lets me go. “Fine. Just give me a second,” he says and kneels, taking my foot in his hands. Moments later, he pulls out a few bits of glass.
I stare at the fan on the ceiling, dizzy as though I’m stranded in the middle of the ocean. I hiss with pain at first, but then bite the inside of my cheek. I’m not soft. I will not be used. And I will not be hurt.
His gentleness confuses me, but I’m not naive. He’s not lied about enjoying our time together. I believe he likes me in his own way, and he most definitely lusts for me. It’s just that he thinks he can have his cake and eat it. While I might be an important part of his life, we have no future. Not if he can’t even tell me why he killed Roy.
He grabs his boot and uses it to shove most of the broken glass under the bed, then places his hands on my knees, watching me with that strange expression I’ve never seen on him before. For once, he’s not joking around.
“Shower? The stall’s big enough for two.”
I nod, glad he doesn’t prod me to speak. I know what I have to do.
I even let him hold my elbow when we go to the bathroom. As if I’m some dainty porcelain teapot that’ll break at the tiniest prod. I’m not. I step on the floor with my full weight, ignoring the pain in my injured foot.
I watch him go under the shower first, because he wants to set up the water temperature to be perfect for me. Like that can make up for killing my brother and lying about it. Roy may have been a shit, but I wouldn’t allow him to be murdered on my watch. My feelings about my brother are far too complicated for that.
I act as soon as Road turns around.
I dash out of the bathroom, grab the nearby chair and prop it against the door to block it. Road is so strong he’ll be able to break out soon, so I don’t even stop for my T-shirt. In nothing but my jeans, my boots in my grip, I run out of the motel room, leaving a trail of blood, because it’s no secret where I’m going .
A middle-aged couple leaving the car with their dog watch me from the sidelines, but I only think about my goal—the car that will take me the hell out of here, so far away from Road I might even forget he ever existed.
Deep down, I know it’s vain hope, but when did my secret wants ever matter?
The vehicle opens, and I slide in, tossing my things into the passenger seat as I switch on the engine. For half a second, I stall, staring at the wooden chicken figurine attached to my keys. Even now, he’s taunting me.
The pedals are cold and harsh under my aching bare feet, but I ignore that and back out from the parking spot, because getting away from here is the only thing that matters. Getting away from Road and from everything we ever shared before I found out about his lies.
How could I have ever imagined I’d mean more than his club?
I was a love-drunk idiot, buying him cupcakes and sharing the most intimate parts of me as if I completely forgot who we are at our cores. He will always be a Vulture, and I’ll always be a Butcher. We never had a future to begin with.
“Clyde!” I hear Road yelling, and I see him in my rearview mirror, wrapped in only a towel, but sprinting my way anyway.
I leave him in the dust. He can walk back to his own car. It’s only two miles.